Join me in death
by fairy-dust3
Summary: Everyone thinks that they knew Harry Potter when they were at school with him. But me, well, I saw him for what he really was. A big one for secrets was Harry Potter. But only I knew his deepest, darkest most inner and most disgusting secrets.


This is a one shot fic that can't really be explained but read it and review anyway. The title and the song at the end or both HIM – Join Me In Death

* * *

**Join in me death**  
  
Everyone thinks that they knew Harry Potter when they were at school with him.  
  
They knew he was the Boy That Lived.  
  
They knew that he lived with his muggle Uncle and Aunt and cousin and he hated them.  
  
They knew that he was exceptionally good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, yet only managed to scrape a passing grade in Potions.  
  
They knew that quidditch was his life and he much preferred to be on a broomstick than on the ground.  
  
They knew that he had fought Voldermort at the ages of eleven, twelve and fourteen and fifteen and temporarily stopped him. Of course, everyone knew that at just seventeen he had killed Voldermort once and for all.  
  
They all knew that he had lost his godfather in his fifth year – he had lost the closest thing he had to a parent.  
  
They all saw him come through it strong, relying on tiny moments of sadness and reflection.  
  
They all knew Dumbledore's golden boy, saviour of the wizarding world, great pupil, brilliant friend, a true Griffindor.  
  
But me, well, I saw him for what he really was.  
  
I knew the Harry Potter who resented the fact he had lived while his family and several friends had not.  
  
I knew the Harry Potter who never slept, he just wandered aimlessly around the castle, returning to his bed early in the morning and pretending to sleep.  
  
I knew the Harry Potter who was never happy, the boy who was incapable of true happiness. What's more, he knew it himself. He said that _'once you've found true happiness you may as well just die.'  
_  
I knew the Harry Potter who loved quidditch because when he was fifty foot in the air, all the people looked like tiny ants, the way he felt all the time, and he felt better.  
  
I knew the Harry Potter who, even at the age of eleven, took joy in causing pain to a powerful wizard, and at seventeen killed with such malice and hatred.  
  
I knew the Harry Potter who hated Sirius for dying, and cursed his spirit every waking hour – which for him was every hour.  
  
I knew that he was deeply unhappy, tumbling into depression, unable to pull himself out.  
  
_'I'm drowing,'_ he told me.  
  
I knew the Harry Potter who liked to score bloody streams into his wrists, legs, chest and stomach, drawing macabre pictures with glinting steel.  
  
He knew he could seal these up with magic, leaving faint scars that no one would notice unless they were pressed up against him, and a blank canvas for next time.  
  
I knew that Harry Potter had fucked most of the Slytherins in the school, male and female alike. He said he liked to, because the Slytherins expected jack shit from him. He could fuck them one night and then they wouldn't want anything more from him except that he kept it secret.  
  
Which was fine by him.  
  
A big one for secrets was Harry Potter.  
  
Of course, his friends, the mudblood and the weasel, they thought they knew his secrets, and to some extent they did.  
  
But only I knew his deepest, darkest most inner and most disgusting secrets.  
  
I knew that he had an unquenchable thirst for power. He liked to tie people up. He liked to tie me up and proceed to fuck my brains out, commanding my every move. As long as he had full control.  
  
He was fascinated with dark magic. Irony in the highest form – he had lost so many people to dark magic, had openly fought and triumphed against it, yet still it fascinated him. And I don't just mean dark magic, I mean the blackest, darkest form of magic there is, some of which even Voldermort himself feared to touch.  
  
This, again, was a power thing. These magics allowed him total control over anyone or anything that crossed him, and he got off on that.  
  
He sometimes used these magics on me. I let him. I liked the look in his eyes when he performed them – the green darkened and his eyes began black. Just black circles in a nest of white. Like he was souless. Sometimes it scared me, but sometimes scared is good.  
  
He got more and more powerful in a matter of weeks. Soon, he didn't need a wand, but carried one to uphold an impression. If anyone had ever looked closely during classes, they could see him flicking his wand in a manner of upmost boredom while his eyes turned black.  
  
He liked to sit in a chair in the corner of the room while ropes appeared and tied me to the bed, my clothes were ripped off and he did the most amazing things to me, without even coming within ten feet of me.  
  
I was the only one he ever stayed with for more than a night. And it was much more than a night. Six months. Every night for six months he would find me and fuck me, an almost terrifying look of control in his eyes.  
  
Some nights he would be rough and tell me I was a worthless whore, just good for fucking and not much else.  
  
I didn't mind.  
  
Other nights he would be gentle and press feather light kisses all over me before taking me gently and whispering in my ear. He would tell me I was beautiful, that I was an angel.  
  
I liked these nights.  
  
Then a few nights, only two or three, he would cry silently, but I could feel the hot tears against my cool skin. He would beg for the fates to take him, to end his pain. Those nights he let me take him. I think on those nights he forgot I was there.  
  
I think I liked these nights the best.  
  
But I was the only person who knew how deeply unhappy Harry was. He hated life, didn't feel alive, wanted power he could never publically have.  
  
I let him have power.  
  
I let him have his way.  
  
Every night I let him have his way.  
  
No matter what it was he wanted, he got it.  
  
Even tonight.  
  
Tonight he came for me. I didn't realise it at first, but something was different.  
  
He didn't tie me up, didn't hold me down. For the first time he let me tuch him as he touched me. We made love.  
  
I should've noticed then that something was different. But I'm ignorant and stupid and I didn't.  
  
Hours we went on until neither of us could do anything but just lay.  
  
After a while he went into the bathroom. Hearing him searching for something, I followed him to see if I could help.  
  
There he was, just sitting while his skin ripped open and blood began gushing out.  
  
_"Harry! Stop it!"_ I had yelled.  
  
_"Why though?"_ he had asked, his voice monotonous and dead.  
  
_"Because your going to hurt yourself."  
  
"Good. I want to hurt myself. I want to die."_  
  
I shook my head, not wanting to believe. _"No, Harry, don't."_  
  
He had laughed, a cold, bitter laugh. _"Why not?"  
  
"I care about you."_  
  
_"No you don't. And I don't care about you. You're just so fucking submissive. You let me do what I want. Well let me do what I want now. Let me die."  
_  
_"I won't let you kill yourself."  
  
"Then do it for me."  
  
"What?"_  
  
His green eyes met mine. There was nothing in the emeralds anymore. The sparkle they had once held was gone, dead, just like Harry was inside, just like he wanted to be.  
  
_"Don't tell me your afraid?"_ he had sneered. _"You're the fucking son of a fucking death eater, you were raised around death and murder. Don't tell me your afraid to kill me."  
  
"Not afraid Harry, just unwilling."_  
  
He stood up then, a sneer in place on his perfect face, blood running down him, causing crimson puddles on the floor.  
  
_"Not jumping at the chance to get one over on your father? Think how much he'd respect you if you killed the Boy That Lived, the one who put him into Azkaban."  
  
"No, Harry, I'm not going to kill you."_  
  
The malice fell from his voice and face and he looked pleading, tears threatening to spill. _"Please, please, I don't want to be here any more. Let me be with my parents and my family. Just let be be free."  
_  
He wanted to go. He wasn't happy. He'd be happier with the people he loved. And I wasn't one of them.  
  
I know he saw in my eyes and my face that I had caved, I would kill him if he wanted.  
  
He smiled and pulled a knife from his pocket. It was long, sharp, dangerous, glittering steel, reflecting Harry's dead eyes in the blade.  
  
I placed my hand on Harry's shoulder and forced myself not to cry.  
  
He smiled still, knowing it would all end soon.  
  
_"Do it, do it now."_  
  
I nodded and plunged the knife into his stomach, staring into his eyes as I did so. They showed no pain, he only hissed slightly.  
  
He moved forward, pushing the blade in further.  
  
I felt sick.  
  
His knees buckled and I lowered him to the floor, holding him in my arms.  
  
I pulled the knife out, almost retching at the gleaming red coating the blade.  
  
The blood began to spill from the gaping hole, mixing with the fluid that was already running down his perfect body.  
  
His eyes began to flicker, his breathing become more erratic, his eyelids slowly closing.  
  
_"I love you Harry."_  
  
But he was gone, a look of peace on his face, as he lay in a steadily growing puddle of his own blood.  
  
I knew I couldn't go on without him.  
  
I took the knife and, with no hesitation, drew it hard across my own throat.  
  
The warm blood gushed down my body.  
  
I crawled over to lay my head on Harry's bloody chest.  
  
And now I lie, red liquid bubbling up my throat, seeping from my neck, trickling out my mouth.  
  
I can't breathe, I can hardly see, the body beneath me is growing cold. My vision is blurring and there's a rushing sound in my ears.  
  
I see images flash before me.  
  
My parents.  
  
My friends.  
  
The school.  
  
Harry.  
  
Harry.  
  
Harry.  
  
Harry.  
  
And then nothing. Everything is black, except a small speck of bright white light ahead of me. It becomes bigger, I don't know whether I'm moving towards it, or it's moving towards me.  
  
There, ahead of me, is Harry. Black hair messy, green eyes sparkling, smile on his face. He looks happy.  
  
Standing behind him is a beautiful woman with long red hair and huge green eyes and a man with untidy dark hair and hazel eyes. Each have a hand on his shoulder. 

Lily and James Potter.  
  
Next to them is Sirius Black, hair short, eyes bright, smile in place.  
  
More people.  
  
Cedric Diggory, Fred and George Weasley.  
  
_"Thank you Dray,"_ says Harry.  
  
He opens is arms and I fall into them.  
  
_"Thank you for joining me."  
_

* * *

_Baby join me in death_

_Baby join me in death_

_Baby join me in death  
  
We are so young our lives have just begun_

_But already we're considering escape from this world  
  
And we've waited for so long for this moment to come_

_We're anxious to be together together in death  
  
Won't you die tonight for love_

_Baby join me in death_

_Won't you die_

_Baby join me in death_

_Won't you die tonight for love_

_Baby join me in death  
  
This world is a cruel place_

_And we're here only to lose_

_So before life tears us apart_

_Let death bless me with you  
  
Won't you die tonight for love_

_Baby join me in death_

_Won't you die_

_Baby join me in death_

_Won't you die tonight for love_

_Baby join me in death_

_Join me in death  
  
This life it ain't worth living_

_This life it ain't worth living_

_This life it ain't worth living_

_Join me_

_Join me_

_Join me_

_This life ain't worth living_

_This life ain't worth living_

_This life ain't worth living  
  
Won't you die tonight for love_

_Baby join me in death_

_Won't you die_

_Baby join me in death_

_Won't you die tonight for love_

_Baby join me in death_

_Baby join me in death_

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Like i said before, please review 


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